Winnetou, the Apache Knight by Karl Friedrich May (chrysanthemum read aloud .TXT) 📖

me. The two other prisoners were freed, and the four Indians went off to fetch their champion and summon the braves to see the combat.

The surveyors all protested with me, but I paid no attention to their words, and Sam said: “You are a marvellously rash fellow. You will be killed, and what shall I do in my old age? I must have a tenderfoot to abuse; whom shall I scold if you are gone?”

“Some other tenderfoot.”

“That’s easier said than done, for I’ll never have another out-and-out hopeless greenhorn such as you are in all my life. Let me take your place. It’s no matter if an old fellow dies, but a young -”

“Now hold your kind tongue, my dear old Sam,” I interrupted.” It’s better a hopeless greenhorn should die than a valuable, experienced scout. But I hope I shan’t die.”

“Well, I’d rather take your place; but if I can’t, promise me to remember it’s for life or death. Don’t come any of your humane nonsense; remember, you’re not dealing with a knight or a square man, but a rascal and a murderer, who will kill you if he can. So get ahead of him; don’t hesitate. I’m afraid you’ll be weakly scrupulous.”

“I assure you I have no such idea. It’s he or I, and I’ll do my best that it shan’t be I. There shall not be an ounce of relenting, I promise you. I’ll save the lives of all the Apaches, and my own, at the price of his, if I can. It’s life or death, as you say, my dear Sam, and I mean to live; don’t fret. Say a prayer for me, if you remember how, and I know you do; and I think God will bless a fight for such a good cause. Hush; here they come.”

CHAPTER XII. A DUEL, AND CAPTURE BY THE APACHES.

THE Indians came slowly towards us; not all, but a large number of them, for Tangua had left a portion of them to guard the Apaches. On reaching the spot a hollow square was formed, of which three sides were filled in by Kiowas, our men occupying the fourth side.

The chief then gave a signal, and from the ranks of the Indians strode a warrior whose proportions were absolutely gigantic. Laying aside all his weapons except his knife, he stripped off his clothing to his waist. No one could look upon his knotted muscles and not be anxious for me. The chief led him into the middle of the square, and announced to us in a voice ringing with the certainty of triumph: “Here stands Metan-Akva [Lightning Knife ], the strongest warrior of the Kiowas, whose knife no man has withstood; his enemy dies beneath his blows as though struck by lightning. He will fight Old Shatterhand, the paleface.”

“Lord help us!” whispered Sam to me; “he’s a real Goliath. My dear boy, it’s all up with you.”

“Nonsense!”

“Don’t forget there’s only one way to conquer this fellow, and that is to make the fight a short one. Let the end be quick, for he can tire you out, and then you’re lost. How’s your pulse?”

He put his fingers on my wrist, counted, and then said: “Thank God, not more than sixty beats, and perfectly regular. You’re not excited? Aren’t you a bit afraid?”

“It wouldn’t do to be upset or afraid in a case that depends on calm blood and eye. The chief has selected this giant because he is invincible, and we’ll see whether he really is so or not.”

While I was talking I, too, had stripped the upper part of my body, for, although it was not necessary, I did not wish it to appear that I desired to shield myself from the knife. I gave my gun and revolver to Sam, and stepped forth into the middle of the square. One could almost see the throbbing of good Sam Hawkins’ heart, but I felt undisturbed, and confidence is the first requisite for a combat.

The chief summoned us to take our places. Lightning Knife looked me over contemptuously, and said in a loud voice: “The body of this feeble paleface throbs with fear; is he afraid to enter the ring ?”

Scarcely had these words been uttered than I stopped into the southward circles thus bringing my back towards the sun, while it shone info my adversary’s eyes and blinded him. This may seem like taking an unfair advantage, but considering I had never fought with knives before, while he was renowned for his skill with them, this did not make up for the advantages on his side, and it was perfectly fair. Tenderness towards my opponent was worse than foolish; any weakness on my part would not only have cost me my life, but the lives of the Apaches for whom I fought; so, though a life-and-death combat is a horrible thing, I was forced to do my best to kill this Hercules.

“He is actually going to try,” laughed Lightning Knife scornfully.” My knife shall drink his blood. The Great Spirit gives him into my hand by taking away his senses.”

Among Indians this sort of preliminary fight with tongues is customary, and I should have been considered cowardly if I had stood silent, so I answered: “You fight with the mouth, but I have here a knife; take your place if you are not afraid.”

He bounded into the other circle, crying angrily “Afraid! Metan-Akva afraid! Did you hear that, ye Kiowa braves? I will have this white dogs life with my first stroke.”

“My first stroke will be the end of you. Now silence. You should not be called Metan-Akva, but Avat-Ya [Big Mouth ].”

“Avat-Ya, Avat-Ya! This coyote pig dares insult me; my blade shall eat his bowels.”

This last threat was very short-sighted on his part, for it gave me a hint as to the manner and place in which his weapon would be used. So he did not mean to stab my heart, but give a knife-thrust below, and rip my body.

We stood quite close, so that neither had to bend much to reach his foe. Metan-Akva’s right arm hung straight down; he held the knife so that the hilt rested on his little finger, and the blade stuck out from between the thumb and index-finger, the edge turned upward. This showed that I was right: he intended to strike upward from below, for if he were going to strike downward he would have held the knife in the opposite way, that is, so that the hilt lay against the thumb, with the blade thrust outward through the fist by the little finger. Then I knew the way in which I was to be attacked; now the main thing was to know the exact moment, which his eyes would tell me. I knew the peculiar flash of the eyes which in such cases precedes a blow.

I dropped my eyelids to let him feel more secure, but only watched him closer through the lashes. “Strike, dog!” he cried.

“Be silent, and act, you red thief!” I replied.

That was a great insult, which must be followed either by an angry answer or the attack, and the latter thereupon ensued.

An angry dilation of his pupil warned me, and the next moment his right arm struck quickly and forcibly upward to rip my body like an old coat. Had I been looking for a blow downward it would have been all over with me, but I parried his thrust with my knife, and cut him deeply in the forearm.

“Dog! swine!” he shrieked, dropping his knife in rage and pain.

“Don’t talk; fight,” I said, raising my arm, and then my knife was in his heart up to the hilt. I instantly drew it out. The stroke was so true that a little stream of red blood spurted out on me. My foe swung backward and forward, groaned, and fell to the earth dead.

A wrathful howl burst from the Indians, but only the chief moved; he came out from the others and knelt by my adversary, examined the wound, rose, and gave me a look which I shall not soon forget. It was eloquent of fear, hatred, amazement, and admiration. He would have gone away without a word, but I said: “Do you see that I am still in my place, while Metan-Akva has left his? Who has conquered?”

“You have,” he answered angrily, and went away; but after taking five or six steps he turned back, and snarled at me: “You are a white son of the wicked spirit. Our medicine-men will find out your charm, and then you shall give up your life to us.”

“Do what you like with your medicine-men, but keep your word with us.”

“What word?” he asked haughtily.

“That the Apaches should not be killed.”

“We will not kill them; I have said it, and will hold to it.”

“And they shall be free?”

“Yes, they shall be free. What Tangua, the chief of the Kiowas, has said shall be done.”

“Then I will go with my friends and untie them.”

“I will do that myself when the time comes.”

“It has come, for I have conquered.”

“Silence! Did we speak of the time?”

“It was not specified, but it is evident -”

“Silence!” he thundered again. “I will decide the time. We will not kill the Apache dogs, but can we help it if they die for want of food or drink? How can I help it if they starve before I free them? “

“Rascal!” I cried.

“Dog, speak another word like that, and -”

He did not finish his threat, but checked himself, looking me in the face, which could not have been pleasant to look upon.

I completed his interrupted sentence. “And I’ll knock you down with my fist, you vilest of all liars.”

He sprang back, drew his knife, growling: “You will not get near me again with your fist. If you come one step towards me I’ll stab you.”

“So your Lightning Knife said, and tried to do, but you see he lies there. I will consult my white friends as to what shall be done with the Apaches. But if you harm a hair of their heads, you are lost. Remember, I can blow you all up.”

With these words I went back to Sam, who could not hear the conversation between the chief and me, because of the howling of the Indians. He sprang to meet me, seized both my hands, crying:” Welcome, my dear, dear boy! you have come back out of the jaws of death. Dick, Will, see here; what do you think of this tenderfoot ? But foolhardy men are always the luckiest, and the worst root grows the biggest potato. When you went into that circle my heart stood still; I could not breathe, and my thoughts were full of how I’d carry out this tenderfoot’s last will and testament. But a thrust, a stab, and the redskin rolled on the ground. Now we’ve gained our end, and the Apaches are free.”

“You’re mistaken there,” I said.

“Mistaken? How so?”

“The chief made a mental reservation in his promise, which now comes to light.”

“I mistrusted that,” cried Sam. “What is his reservation?”

I repeated Tangua’s words to him, and he was so angry that he instantly started off to see the chief. I resumed the clothing and weapons I had laid down, and thought over the Situation. Evidently the Kiowas had been confident that Lightning Knife would kill me, and they were furious over the result of our encounter. They could not fall upon us, since it was a life-and-death fight, and the survivor was promised security; but they would find some excuse for a quarrel; of that we might be sure.

The chief was occupied